Hi! I think you mentioned in a few posts that you have stayed/(lived?) in Ireland. May I ask you to elaborate on your experience? Any detail, no matter how small would warm my heart, tbh.
I'm from a slavic country and despite my efforts, simply could not find a scholarship that would allow me to go and study there :( So, I'm always curious to hear other people's stories.
Hi! I did my PhD there.
I'll say this: avoid Ireland unless you have a side hustle in tech or something comparable. You have been lucky to not find a scholarship. Everyone is talking about how bad the housing crisis is on the continent but it's nowhere near as bad as in Ireland and it's not even restricted to large cities.
It's a beautiful country but for a student or a young professional it's currently unlivable.
I'm sorry, you probably wanted some fun episodes or something beautiful but I'm traumatised by the state of things.
Please have a picture from my everyday morning commute to uni. That was the good part of it all.
For heartwarming stories and classic Irish dark humour I highly recommend /r/Ireland, it faithfully recreates pub atmosphere on a Friday night.
3 notes
·
View notes
the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
10K notes
·
View notes
TW: Trump and casual extreme trumpism
This is just a vent post about my family and how far they've fallen down the trump hole
My sister and her husband went to the American Freedom Winter Gala. Which, (don't look it up, it fucked up my targeted ads) is basically a black tie trump rally on Mar A Lago. I cannot imagine how much money she spent to go there considering they paid $40,000 for them to go to the Austin trump rally and have dinner with that shit stain in May, so my guess is they likely paid in the neighborhood of a minimum of $80k, probably closer to $100k or more.
Among the hashtags my sister added to her posts were: #Trump2024, #proudtobeanamerican, #maga, and the one that scared me the most: #ultramaga. She was also photographed in a rhinestone cowboy hat that said "Trump Won."
There is something so gutting about all of this. I've said it before and I'll say it again, it's basically like watching someone you care about be sucked into a cult. And a cult that basically hates everything I stand for and much of who I am as a bisexual woman.
I'm unsure if my sister knows about my sexuality. My mother forced me to come out several months ago and while I told her specifically not to tell my sister, I highly doubt she listed to me.
Regardless, I'm scared.
I have no desire to have a relationship with my sister, it's never been much ot one anyway. She only talks to me when she needs something and everything I've ever said to her in confidance was relayed right to our mom. So, I have no problem cutting her off.
It's really our parents who are the problem. They're conservative, not quite that conservative, but they certainly don't disavow my sister's behavior or approve of mine and my mom especially has been a source of a lot of pain in my life. Still, my relationship with my dad is fairly good and as much as I know I should just go no contact to all of them, that's so much easier said than done.
Even though the prospect of maintaining a good relationship with my parents seems to slip farther and farther away by the day as the tendrils of the trump/fox news cult snare them tighter, they're still my parents and cutting them off completely would cause me pain.
None of this is needing a response, I just feel so frustrated and helpless and I needed somewhere to vent.
1 note
·
View note
(i am not immune to peer pressure so here's a continuation. part one here)
It’s so rare that Steve meets anyone nice anymore.
It’s just hard to find people. Dating apps suck, and ever since Robin and Nancy got together, they hardly ever want to go to bars together. And what’s he supposed to do, just drink alone and hope he stumbles across someone?
Well, that’s exactly what happened today, sans drinking. He was heading for the bus stop, a tiny bit lost but he had a map and was pretty sure he could figure it out. He realizes he’s a tiny bit directionally challenged, and he’s still relatively new in town, and Robin and Nancy just moved to a new place, so it all came together to mean that getting there would take some puzzling out. All the same, he was prepared to figure it out on his own right up until he saw the super hot guy sitting at the bus stop and figured a little help couldn’t hurt.
And that’s how Steve ended up with an unexpected date (sort of) to Robin and Nancy’s baby shower (not a real baby shower).
Robin answers the door and smiles, then does a double take when she sees Eddie. Whoops, Steve probably should have texted her that he was bringing someone. He’d gotten a little caught up in the moment.
“Hey, hope you don’t mind I brought a plus one,” Steve says, hugging her before walking inside. Eddie follows him.
“No, no, that’s fine,” Robin says, voice a little strange as they take their shoes off and she shuts the door. “We’re all in the living room.”
They follow her through the kitchen and into the living room where half a dozen calico kittens and several adults are on the floor.
“Oh my God, they’re adorable,” Eddie says, leaving Steve’s side to get down next to the kittens. Steve gets a huge smile watching him. Fuck, he’s super hot and he’s now holding a tiny kitten, cooing at it? Steve might just get on one knee right now. Or both knees. Honestly, either one works.
If he were paying more attention to literally anything other than Eddie, Steve would notice that nearly everyone else in the room is also staring at Eddie. The only exception to that is El, who’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with the mama cat in her lap, both watching the kittens with the same wide-eyed intensity.
There’s a tap on Steve’s shoulder, and he turns to look at Robin. “Can we talk for a sec?” she asks, voice still odd.
“Yeah,” he says and follows her back into the kitchen.
She crosses her arms and leans back against the counter. “So are you gonna tell me what Eddie Munson is doing in our living room?”
“Oh, have you already met him?” Steve asks.
Her eyes widen. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Uh. Yes?”
“Steve, that’s Eddie Munson,” she says, “From Corroded Coffin?”
“From what?” he asks, though as she says, it does sound a tiny bit familiar.
“Corroded Coffin?” she says, “It’s that band the kids love. Along with like half of America if they’re not completely scandalized by them.”
“So what, you’re trying to tell me Eddie’s famous?” Steve asks. Robin nods. “Hold on, this isn’t like Paul all over again, is it?” Paul was a guy Steve briefly dated a few years ago, and Robin had somehow convinced Steve that he was an Olympic athlete. In his defense, she had mocked up some seriously convincing news articles.
But Robin is shaking her head. “No, I’m serious this time,” she says. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. After a second she turns it around to show him the Google results for Eddie Munson. There are a lot of red carpets and pictures of him onstage. And damn, Eddie seriously is so hot.
“Alright, well, you definitely didn’t have time to photoshop these,” Steve mutters. Robin nods, patting him on the shoulder. How did he accidentally bring a famous guy over?
Just then, Eddie comes into the kitchen, a kitten in his hands.
“Stevie, look at her,” he says, holding the kitten up.
Stevie? Robin mouths. Steve kicks her as he reaches out to scratch under the kitten’s chin. It mews at him.
“I asked Nancy—she’s terrifying, by the way,” Eddie adds to Robin, “And she said I can keep her.” He lifts the kitten to his face and it purrs as it rubs its cheek against Eddie’s. Steve is actually going to combust.
“Alright, well, I’m heading back in,” Robin says, voice back to that strained quality as she escapes the kitchen. Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, too busy whispering praise to the kitten.
Steve scratches under its chin again and it purrs at him. “What’re you gonna name her?” he asks.
“Don’t know yet,” Eddie says, “Isn’t she per—oh, hold on.” His phone is ringing, so he moves the kitten to one hand as he reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. “Hey Gar….Yeah, ‘cause you abandoned me….No, I’m in Japantown getting a kitten….No, that’s not a euphemism….Listen, I’m kinda busy, I’ll call you later, alright?…Yeah, see you, man.”
While he was talking, the kitten clawed its way up Eddie’s shirt and into his hair. “What’re you doing in there, sweet girl?” he asks, tucking his phone back into his pocket and reaching for the kitten. It’s gotten very tangled in his curls, though, and apparently really likes being there.
“Lemme help you,” Steve says, stepping closer to Eddie and extricating the kitten. Eddie’s hair is very soft. Good to know. “Here you go,” he says, holding the kitten out for him.
“One sec,” Eddie says. He ties his hair up quickly (also hot, fuck) before taking the kitten back. He boops noses with it. “Such a mischievous little girl.”
“Well, can you blame her?” Steve asks. He brushes a loose curl behind Eddie’s ear. “Your hair seems like a nice place to be.”
Eddie smiles at him, a dimple appearing on his cheek. “I’ll be honest, Stevie,” he says, voice getting a little lower as he moves closer, boxing Steve against the counter. “At first I just came along because you’re gorgeous, but I think I’ve fallen in love.” He holds up the kitten in one hand.
“You think I’m gorgeous?” Steve asks, feeling his face heat.
“‘Course I do, big boy,” Eddie says, leaning closer and putting his free hand on the counter by Steve’s hip.
Maybe this is stupid and way too forward, but Eddie is so dreamy with his eyes and his dimple and his hair and the kitten in his hand, so Steve leans in and kisses him. It’s a little relieving when Eddie kisses him back, free hand lifting to his hair while Steve wraps his arms around his waist.
Steve doesn’t notice the front door opening or a new group of people that includes Dustin Henderson coming inside. He doesn’t notice them entering the kitchen and freezing as they take in the scene.
That is, not until Dustin shouts, “Holy shit, is that Eddie Munson?”
tagging a few people who asked for a continuation/asked to be tagged (sorry if i missed anyone!): @nburkhardt @stargyles @csinnamon-fox @manda-panda-monium @silly-jellyghoty @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @starquirk
edit to add that this ficlet is complete and the last part is here
5K notes
·
View notes